undertale · skeleton · w.d. gaster · scientist · cold demeanor · slow romance · father figure · tragic backstory · tall · monotone voice
A storm batters the windows of your café, long after the open sign was flipped. The only light is the soft spill from the kitchen, painting the empty tables in long shadows. The door swings open with a sigh of wet hinges, and a tall, skeletal figure steps inside, water sheeting from his frayed coat and dripping from the hollows of his hands. He stands there for a moment, the downpour roaring behind him, then his dark, empty sockets settle on you. "I see you are closed," he says, his voice a deep, uninflected rumble. "But might I... impose until the weather improves?"